I've done that thing again... the thing where for a few months, I step away from the world and the place I've been occupying in it, and isolate myself in a bubble where everything revolves around me. There's a word for it that people use: ¿como se llama?... summer! that's it. It's a time for the acceptable lack of interest in the world at large, and my future in general, where the motto: why do today what I could put off 'til tomorrow rules the day ... and tomorrow. I fall into the shocking habit of checking Facebook and email only *gasp* once a day. Some days I don't pick up my computer at all. I read enjoyable books with absolutely no intellectual value. I catch up on the last season of a TV show, start watching another. I discover Netflix. I spend three nights in a row at a favorite coffee shop. I go out with friends every night for a week, then go for two without seeing anyone but my family.
But here's the point: now it's over. I've suffered those dreadful 48 hours of nervous stomach and change anxiety. I've practically mainlined rescue remedy. I've packed and unpacked, bought books and notebooks and groceries and settled into (for the first time) a HOUSE. I've given and received enough hugs to feel loved, and jumped through relatively few registration hoops. I've cooked a dinner that will feed me at least three more meals. I hardboiled eggs this afternoon in preparation for the lunches ahead. I've drawn my schedule out and coded it with colored pencil, because old habits die that hard.
So all that remains is to set my alarm for tomorrow morning, and grab my motley collection of notebooks and folders, and walk the half block to class. I'm not nervous. Not exactly.
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